


Angelic

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: “You are goddamn angelic.”
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Angelic

Peter grabs your waist and pulls you toward him gently to straddle him. Your knees settle on the soft couch cushions on either side of him. “No rush, my love.” He whispers into your neck, sending chills down your spine.

You feel him begin to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Instead of acknowledging it, not trusting your words, you use a guiding hand on his cheek to lift his face to yours. Lips soft against each other’s. No rush. We have all the time in the world.

He taps your back with two fingers, just under your shirt, and you nod. His cold hands trace patterns across the small of your back as you kiss. Moving up slightly higher, where the skin is more sensitive, you tense.

“Is this okay?” He pulls away to ask.

Seeing him under you, head leaning against the back of the couch, lips parted and pupils blown wide, you can’t help but feel a surge of complete adoration. Of trust. Of love.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

You nod, reaching down and pulling your shirt over your head (but careful to tuck it in the pillows near to you both, just in case). Tilting your head to the side, you close your eyes, not able to meet his. It’s nerves now, not fear. There’s not a bone in your body that doubts that you are safe. That he is safe.

“Look at me. Please.” Peter’s voice seems caught in his throat, raspy.

When you meet his eyes, his grin makes you smile. “Ethereal.” He whispers.

“Good word choice.” You giggle.

“Mhm.”

You attempt to ease the tension, “The English department at school might give you a job for that.”

“You are goddamn angelic.”

“Not sure angels are damned by God, but I’ll take it.”

His eyes trace your form as delicately as his fingertips. Wonder and awe, and something else, grace his features.

“I’m so lucky.” He murmurs, “I love you.”

“And I love you.”


End file.
